


Sugar Pie (Honey Bunch)

by larriecloudss



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, JUST, M/M, Pet Names, Serenading, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, because stiles is a dork, songs to fall in love to
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2015-10-30
Packaged: 2018-04-28 22:11:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5107481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/larriecloudss/pseuds/larriecloudss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Was that eat-in or takeaway?" the girl at the counter recites monotonously. Her disinterest in the answer is obvious. Her attention is instead devoted to glowering at a group of middle schoolers throwing chicken nuggets at each other. Derek tries not to be annoyed by the amplified clacking of her chewing gum. He watches as one of the preteens gets pegged in the head and goes down.</p><p>"Takeaway, thanks." Stiles replies cheerfully by his side. His boyfriend is smiling widely at the grumpy waitress. "Sound alright, schmoopy?" he asks, directing the question at Derek.</p><p>Derek's eye twitches.<br/>-<br/>Or, Stiles just really loves to annoy Derek with pet names.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sugar Pie (Honey Bunch)

**Author's Note:**

> My [sister](http://5sos-bandcest.tumblr.com/) has been bullying me to publish this for a while now, so imagine her joy when she found out Friday’s theme of [Sterek Week 2015](http://sterekweek2015.tumblr.com/) was 'songs to fall in love to' 
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I don't own, nor am affiliated with Teen Wolf or its characters.

 

"Was that eat-in or takeaway?" the girl at the counter recites monotonously. Her disinterest in the answer is obvious. Her attention is instead devoted to glowering at a group of middle schoolers throwing chicken nuggets at each other. Derek tries not to be annoyed by the amplified clacking of her chewing gum. He watches as one of the preteens gets pegged in the head and goes down.

"Takeaway, thanks." Stiles replies cheerfully by his side. His boyfriend is smiling widely at the grumpy waitress. "Sound alright, schmoopy?" he asks, directing the question at Derek.

Derek's eye twitches.

They're standing in the local diner, chatter and animated laughter from the full booths echoing around them. It's empty for a Saturday evening, usually being the spot the high school kids will frequent a few hours later after a night of underage drinking and general irresponsibility. Tonight though, it's rather quiet, the low music serving as a soundtrack to the flirting of waiters and waitresses alike, the lively conversation from the customers and bustle and hustle of the kitchen.

Derek wraps an arm around his boyfriend's shoulders and forces a smile. "Sounds perfect...love."

Stiles grins maniacally back. "Great! Schnookums." Derek grits his teeth.

The cashier raises a heavily pencilled eyebrow but says nothing, punching in their order with a long-suffering sigh.

Derek clutches Stiles' shoulder and steers him forcefully towards the napkins. Stiles is wearing one of Derek's woollen sweaters over a bare chest, the arms pooling around his wrists and the collar wide to expose collarbones and neck. It's a disgusting lilac colour, bought for him by a well-meaning Scott last Christmas. The alpha had presented it to him eagerly in a little bag and beamed as Derek pasted a severely insincere smile on his face. Derek had shoved the awful thing in the back of his closet as soon as Scott had left the house, Stiles laughing. On Stiles' lean frame though, it teases his pale skin, dotted constellations of moles disappearing under the collar, Stiles' scent and his mixing together. The smell is intoxicating.

"Really?" Derek hisses, willing his irritation to clear his head. "Snookums?"

"Why Derek," Stiles says with mock offence, holding a hand above his heart, one sweater paw flinging along. "I thought you loved my little pet names."

Looking over Stiles' shoulder to check the group of people sitting in the booth nearest them are satisfactorily occupied, Derek allows his canines to elongate the slightest bit as he snarls. Stiles just laughs. 

"Oh, would you have preferred Sourwolf?" he simpers apologetically.

"Already used that one," Derek says triumphantly. "No repeating. It's  _unoriginal._ "

Stiles narrows his eyes, a good-natured smile on his face. "Hmm. Guess you got me there, cutie pie."

Derek sighs as Stiles turns to busy himself with the napkins, humming smugly.

It had started with Stiles' simple slip of, "Hey do you want a coffee, babe?" one morning at Derek's apartment.

Derek had dropped his fork into his scrambled eggs and stared, incredulous. "No,  _sweetie pie_ ," he'd answered when it became clear Stiles hadn't noticed the small nickname. Stiles had stopped in the middle of reaching up to pull two mugs down from their shelf.

"Sorry," he'd grinned, eyes sparkling behind the thick frames of his glasses. "It slipped out,  _honey_."

And Stiles.

Has.

Not.

Stopped.

That same afternoon going grocery shopping for Derek's apartment (since Stiles had insisted that a carton of beer, some milk and a mouldy lemon weren't appropriate contents), Derek had almost growled when Stiles referred to him affectionately as 'Cute-cumber' in front of the cashier.

The next morning having coffee with Scott to discuss proper welcomings for a migrating pack of elves, Derek had almost snapped the handle off his mug when Stiles cooed out a, "Thanks, sweet cheeks," as Derek had passed him his own cup. Scott had choked on his tea, spluttering and red in the face.

"Scooch over a bit there, lovebug," one night watching the Mets game (Stiles insisted) on the couch. Derek had glared at him and stubbornly stayed in the same spot.

"Hey there snuggle pie," as Stiles greeted him at work one day with a kiss on the cheek. His workmates had all laughed and made obscene remarks as Derek pulled Stiles towards the supply closet with a snarl, the human smirking proudly. Stiles insisted on moaning loudly whenever someone walked past the closet all throughout Derek's one-sided argument. Derek hadn't been able to look his supervisor in the eye for  _weeks_. 

"Hey, hon bun," at the recent pack meeting. The whole pack had stopped and stared at Stiles, then slid their gaze slowly to Derek. Derek just gave a resigned sigh and pulled Stiles onto his lap, the latter sticking his tongue out at a bemused Liam.

"Pass me the salt please, baby boo," Stiles had commented offhandedly. At a formal dinner. With Stiles' dad. The Sheriff had fumbled the pepper shaker and given a short, "I don't want to know," when Derek hurried to explain.

Three days later and Stiles is still managing to come up with increasingly cringe-worthy and disgusting pet names for him.  _In public_.

"Here's your food," the same disgruntled waitress says, shoving a warm bag at them.

"Thanks," Derek says shortly, hastily snatching the bag up and wheeling around, frog-marching Stiles towards the door.

"Yeah, thank yo - woah, Derek, in a rush are we, my sweet munchkin?"

"Munchkin," Derek whimpers softly.

"Um - you're welcome?" the cashier calls after them uncertainly. Behind her, the group of middle schoolers have now graduated to throwing chicken nuggets at other customers.

-

"Hmmm." Stiles taps his slim fingers against Derek's breakfast bar, thinking. Derek determinedly goes back to his book. "What about cutie patootie?"

He sighs and turns a page. "That's even worse."

One of the things Derek has learned about dating Stiles is that he is persistent if nothing else. He's also goddamn annoying. The whole drive back to Derek's apartment had been full of Stiles' attempts to discover increasingly embarrassing and downright awful pet names from 'sweetheart' to 'sexy butt'.

And although Derek loves it, loves being with Stiles, loves having someone being with him - he may have to shove some more food in Stiles' mouth just to get him to stop with the ridiculous nicknames.

"How about you eat some more curly fries? Might shut you up for a bit," Derek comments idly.

His boyfriend rolls his eyes. "Fuck off, honey muffin."

Derek rolls his eyes back, but Stiles' voice is fond and Derek can smell his affection. There's comfortable silence for a moment, filled only with the turn of a page and the squeaking of the bar stool as Stiles swings round. Derek's jumper flops around on his lanky frame and his glasses sit crooked on his nose.

"How bout snuggle bum?" Stiles calls eventually.

Derek sighs. He'd just been getting into the book, which he sets down beside him to glare across the room at Stiles. "No."

"Huggle bear?" Stiles suggests, spinning round on the stool.

" _No._ "

"Bae?"

Derek actually shudders. "No - just. No."

Stiles' eyes glint behind his glasses. " _Daddy_."

Derek looks up. He sees the look of triumph blooming on Stiles' face before he says, "Sure, if you wanna be picturing your father's disappointed face everytime I make you scream that name."

Stiles makes a face, still spinning back and forth. "Ugh. Okay, have it your way baby cakes."

"Stiles."

"Spouse louse," he drawls, grinning at Derek's irritation.

"Where are you even getting these?" Derek snaps. He picks up his novel and aggressively turns a page, determined to immerse himself back into the woes of Michael the serial-killing sociopath and his attempts to woo Jenny from I.T.

"Sugar pie," Stiles croons. Derek's head snaps up, immediately on alert.

He watches, horrified, as Stiles' eyes light up after his own words register. The forbidden words. The words that had led to a whole hour long car ride of torture when the radio wouldn't read any other station. There's silence for a moment.

"No," Derek says firmly. "Stiles,  _no_."

"Honey bunch," Stiles says in a normal tone, eyes sparkling.

"No, Stiles -"

"Sugar pie honey bunch," Stiles repeats in a singsong voice, as though testing out this combination of words. Derek watches on in horror, Jenny and Michael's passionate but rather more disturbing love story abandoned and laying forgotten by his side.

" _Stiles_." His boyfriend takes a huge breath and Derek knows he can do nothing but brace for what's to come.

"A-YOU KNOW THAT I -"

"Stiles, please," Derek pleads. "Be reasonable, the neighbours -"

"LOOOOOOOVE YOUUU."

Derek folds his arms, pressing his lips together as they twitch traitorously at his boyfriend's antics. Stiles catches the almost grin and his own smirk widens to that familiar trouble-maker smile Derek's seen many times. He hops off the bar stool and swaggers towards Derek, arms flung wide.

"Iiiiiii can't help myself," Stiles croons, dancing from foot to foot. Derek forces a frown on his face, trying not to think about how sweet Stiles' voice sounds. "I love you aaaaaand nobody else."

Stiles reaches out and trails a hand on Derek's cheek. He shrugs the human off, mouth involuntarily curling into a grin. Stiles pokes one dimpled cheek with a finger, still singing, his own smug grin widening on his face. Derek grunts and snags up the book laying forgotten on the couch beside him, eyes not registering any of the words. Stiles continues to serenade him loudly.

"Oh, in and out my life - c'mon, Derek, you have to do the echo." Stiles dances around the coffee table, plucking the book out of Derek's hand. Derek tries to look not at all pleased.

"In and out my life," Derek deadpans. Stiles laughs, a delighted, deep sound. Derek presses his lips together harder in an effort not to smile.

"You come and you gooooo."

"You come and you go," Derek repeats flatly, revelling in the way Stiles beams at him, amused and fond.

"Leaving just your picture behiiiind - And I've kissed it a thousand times!"

Derek attempts a scowl as his hand is lifted for Stiles to press a sloppy kiss to it. It's more of a betraying smile. Stiles threads his fingers through Derek's, standing in front of him. When Derek looks up at him from his seat on the couch, the light filtering through the window to their side makes Stiles' eyes glow gold.

"When you snap fingers, or wink your eye." Stiles gives him an exaggerated wink, scrunching up the left side of his face. "I come running to youuuu!"

Derek can't help but chuckle.

"Hey!" Stiles caws, pleased. "There you go!"

Grinning triumphantly, he tugs gently on Derek's hands, bringing the werewolf to his feet. Derek lets out another startled laugh, and watches as he allows Stiles to move their arms in a fashion that might generously be considered dancing. Dragging his eyes back up, Derek lets them linger on Stiles' lips before he's met with a bright gaze, crinkled around the corners with a smile and magnified the slightest by thick frames.

"Hello," Stiles says brightly.

"Hi," Derek replies softly, lips tugging upwards. Stiles rewards him with his own wide grin, and he continues singing, softer and quieter this time, though still with the sound of a smile in his voice, pressing close to Derek.

"I'm tied to your apron strings. And there's nothing that I can do."

Derek sways slightly on his feet and untangles his fingers from Stiles' to slot his arms around Stiles' slim waist. Stiles loops his arms around Derek's neck, stroking his nape, slow-dancing in the middle of Derek's living room.

"Oh, I can't help myself. I love you and nobody else."

Sighing gently, Derek pulls Stiles closer and fixes his chin onto the pale shoulder that Derek's sweater had fallen over. Derek can smell his own scent seeping into Stiles'. He presses a small kiss to the skin there, feeling Stiles rest his own chin on Derek's shoulder. They continue to sway slowly on the spot, dancing to a music only they can hear.

"Sugar pie, honey bunch. I'm weaker than a man should be." The words are a contented exhale, the hot puff of breath on Derek's ear.

Derek noses into Stiles neck, breathing in the combination of their mixed scents. Stiles' hand snakes away from around his neck and links their fingers, leaving the other hand still threaded in his hair. Derek uses his free hand around Stiles' waist to pull him impossibly closer still. Stiles' body is warm and solid against his and Derek wants to feel this way forever.

"I can't help myself."

Stiles' lifts their joined hands and brushes a feather-light kiss to Derek's knuckles, a tender gesture in comparison to the playful smacking of lips Stiles had pressed there just moments ago. He smiles into the hollow of Stiles' neck.

"I'm a fool in love, you see."

"I love you," Derek blurts. Stiles' hand stiffens in his hair.

Silently, Derek curses himself. His and Stiles' relationship has always felt - fragile. Like if Derek shifts even slightly one way, Stiles will topple over, and bring Derek down with him. The fact that Stiles is human was one Derek had found very hard to overlook in the first few weeks of their relationship, which lead to, needless to say, quite a few fights. Derek remembers the night after Stiles had taken a hit from a rogue omega, screaming until he was red in the face about how he could protect himself. Derek had shoved him in the chest then reeled him back in for a kiss. That was the first time Stiles had spent the night, the first night Derek wasn't afraid to push too hard and the first night Stiles knew when to stop pushing back.

In the morning, when he'd woken up with Stiles latched onto him like an octopus, Derek had been tempted to tell him right then, with Stiles blinking sleep out of his eyes and mumbling, "What time'sit?"

The words on the tip of his tongue had startled him so badly he'd jumped out of bed and raced downstairs, leaving Stiles sitting dazedly in bed. For the next three months, Derek's been tiptoeing around the sentiment, thinking carefully before he speaks, scared to ruin what they'd so carefully built out of all the crumbled pieces and ashes left over from all the times they'd been taken apart and put back together again. 

Now, with Stiles pressed to him, the setting sun lighting the room in a soft glow, feeling, for the first time, truly complete, his and Stiles' scents intertwined, the words had finally slipped out. It didn't make them any less true.

Setting his jaw determinedly, Derek pulls away slightly, studying Stiles' face hesitantly. His long lashes sweep shadows across his cheekbones in the light of the setting sun filtering in through the window. There's a small smile on Stiles' lips, but it's nothing compared to the beam in his eyes.

"Those aren't the lyrics," he says simply, and something inside Derek's chest loosens. He knows everything is alright. Maybe not all the time, but right then, with Stiles here and looking up at him, beautiful and soft, he knows nothing will go wrong.

Derek shrugs. "I thought I might add my own personal touch."

Stiles' lips twitch and he presses them to Derek's,who sighs into his boyfriend's mouth, squeezing the fingers still clutched in his. Stiles is smiling widely into the kiss, as is Derek. The kiss is purposeful and slow, clacking teeth and burbled giggling, and Derek feels strangely peaceful for the first time in years.

When Stiles finally pulls away, it's only to say, "I love you and nobody else." It's not sung, or ridiculously proclaimed. Just a simple, quiet stating of facts.

Derek squeezes Stiles' hand. He grins and says, "Sugar pie."

Stiles smiles in return. It makes Derek weak. "Honey bunch."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Check me out on [tumblr](http://larriecloudss.tumblr.com/) for more ramblings .xx


End file.
